Grateful Dead Live at Mile High Stadium on 1991-06-28
- Live concert
- Grateful Dead
- DeadLists Project
SBD> Dat> Samplitude> CD, Seed Supplied By David Gans; Transfer Info: Sony R500> Behringer SRC2000> M-Audio Dio 2448> Compaq 5452, Transfer done by Charlie Miller; Recorded with Samplitude v6.0, Fades done with Cool Edit Pro v1.2, Tracked with CDWave v1.71, SHN'd with MKW v0.97 Beta1
- 2004-05-11 11:22:01
- Denver, CO
- Taped by
- Transferred by
- Mile High Stadium
Subject: bread crumb
Subject: Pretty good for it's time
Subject: Not as good as McNichols 1990
Not that the show is bad, its actually quite an ambitious set list with proficient execution. I feel that set 2 could have benefited with another jammer pre-drums rather than some first set Bobby tunes. No huge fowl though. Just medium energy though, nothing spectacular. But much better than most that would come after it (with exceptions like certain 91' MSG, BG, or Spectrum shows).
Dark Star teases in Wharf Rat are nice, but why not just go for a full Dark Star? Even an eight minute one??? I Think Bruce and Jer were dicking around but Bob wanted to move onto Throwing Stones (per setlist.)
Either way, great sounding transfer. Thanks.
5 for sound
3 for playing
A strong 4. Worth the download
Subject: mile high
Subject: True deadhead adventure
First: the music. Not bad. C+, and that's coming from one of us rare, few heads who went to Dead shows TO LISTEN TO THE MUSIC. At least Santana didn't kick the Dead's ass like they had at the Tacoma Dome in '88. My first Black-Throated, and I remember standing there in like the 20th row, kind of interested, and thinking "Hmm, what an odd song this is." Not my first Saint, but the first one I remembered hearing, and I enjoyed hearing it. Like many reviewers here, I remember the Picasso too. Musically, that song is actually pretty rippin'. I think it's just not supposed to be cool to like Bobby's stuff. Anyway, in general, nothing special.
The LSD, however, was really freakin' good. I usually went to shows pretty deliberately: tickets beforehand, always with friends, always knew where I'd be staying, no screwing around with uncertainty about the whole food, clothes and shelter thing. This show, on the other hand, was a real off-the-cuff job. I didn't even know the Dead were playing Mile High until I met some heads who told me so on the way to a flight connection the day before at Denver airport. They were staying with some friends of theirs in Boulder, and so I arrived in Denver, set my return trip to Oregon back a day, and went there with them. Nice kids, mostly a bit younger than me, but very mellow and, so I thought, pretty together. Tickets were easy to get. We arrived at Mile High and split up, saying we'd meet at the van after the show: I was in a mood to be on my own trip.
I tripped my ass off at the show, but in spite of losing several articles of clothing and staying late to look for them unsuccessfully, I was in a very positive and "forward" kind of head space. I had been through this kind of thing before. Two (or was it three?) Oakland New Years' runs had prepared me more than adequately. It turned out to be a good thing that my energy was so high, because I would need it: by the time I got back to the meeting place, the van was gone and I had nobody. No phone number, no address, and everything I hadn't lost in the show was somewhere in Boulder that I didn't know anything about, except that it was somewhere within easy walking distance of the Pearl Street market.
"Take it easy," I thought to myself. "This is nothing compared to the thugs of Oakland. You've got thirteen hours before your flight home and no chance at all of getting sleepy for at least the next eight. You've bought the ticket, so take the ride!" My plan was to make it back to Pearl Street Market in Boulder and systematically spiral outwards on foot until I found the right house. Despite what you might think, finding the ride out of Denver proved to be the plan's biggest hurdle. Every vehicle was full. The cops were being downright sinister, and everybody was in a hurry to go. I was nervous, and needed to relax so that I didn't ward off potential friends by flashing the wrong vibes, so I helped myself to a few whip hits from a nitrous tank to which I kept returning as I looked for a ride, until the pigs shut that juke joint down. No sooner had I taken my last hit off the last balloonful than I ran into my doppleganger coming around the corner of a van and sucking down a beer with such gusto that he didn't see me until we crashed into each other.
I'll never forget this kid. His name was Ira, and he looked (and dressed) exactly like me. Ira, if you're out there, thank you for not being just a figment of my imagination, 'cause you saved my ass. We grooved on how alike we were for a minute before we started talking facts: both going back to Boulder, him driving, only slightly dosed, room in the van and a killer '77 show on the tape player. "This music is f--ked up," said Ira during the jam in "Dancing in the Streets". Funny eye-contact with the slinky pale blonde in the scarlet flowerprint summer dress riding in the seat behind me; she pointedly told me she had pairs of tickets for the Cal Expo shows coming up, but her vibes were too hungry so I declined as nicely as I could; I'd already learned "the hard way, to let her pass by..." But thank you too, pretty girl, for the compliment.
I walked in an outward spiral from Pearl Street Market, my ego in service to my survival, and as the first birds were waking up and chirping and being told to shut up by the other birds who weren't up yet, I found the house.
I walked in and said "Can I please take a turn on the couch? I'm kinda tired."
"What happened to you?" they said in astonishment.
"F--k you," I said, and went to sleep.
Subject: goes to show you don't ever know
I think the first set was not horrible but never in total synch. The Second was a rough starting Eyes and Bobby whaling on Picaso Moon couldn't keep the energy in the crowd around me from crashing. We were all long timers and all hated that song, especially in the second set.
The highlights to me were the Dark Star tease in Wharf Rat which is a good and bad thing then the nice Box encore.
As I listen to it now I laff at my reaction because I realize I'm a spoiled Head who should be grateful for even this mess.
After the previous GREAT run at Big Mac in December this was a huge let down.
But as I said the other reviews seemed to love the show since they never saw a 60's or 70's show I guess, even some 80's made this look pale but I am grateful I was there to shake my bones for even a little while.
Subject: I Loved This Show
This was also the night that while driving home to Littleton on 285 we came around the bend at about midnight and there were all these cherries in the darkness... A sobriety checkpoint...
There were 5 of us in my little Geo and we were all Gonzo'ed out. Bewteen us all we had a fresh sheet, half oz. of shrooms, porbably an oz. of weed, an 8 ball, open beer and an open bottle of Jack... The Police had all these cones out on the road to create a little lane that they used to line up the cars. The car ahead of us was the last one to fill up the lane and they waved us right by it all. Holy Freakin Shit! If we were one car ahead lives would have changed, marriges wouldn't have happened, babys wouldn't have been born. Some of us would have spent a lot of time in jail. Angles watching over us... Maybe... Dumb luck... who knows! All I can say is if you're ever carrying be careful!
Subject: picasso moon haters!!!!
Subject: But did you look up?
But what really blew my mind was how the stage orientation, which made no sense to me all night, enabled a perfectly full moon to gracefully arc across the top of the stage post-drums. Quite lovely, and I can only figure it was intentional.
And I'm so glad that others shared my delight in watching Mickey throughout that so lovely and very rare Dark Star INSERTED INTO ANOTHER SONG. Find me another, I dare you.
Subject: This Must Be Heaven
Another Charlie Miller transfer. What GD Hour show # was this? I don't know. Who can keep up?
Very professional first set with minor slip ups. All songs are good. BTW & Cassidy are pretty hot. Don't Ease, the first set closer, is not on this, the archive's version.
Second set starts with a grand exposure of Eyes. The sound is rich, texturous and malty. Conversely, though, it's akin to shooting drops into your eyes 3 times a day ~ you don't see clearly, you see clearly, ad infinitum. That doesn't sound appealing? Maybe not, but drops in the eyes help you discern shapes in the fog. In a matter of moments you're hearing better than you ever saw, or whatever. Then...
Picasso comes on gangbusters with a wallbanging like the Nightfall of Diamonds (10-16-89 MSG) version. It's mystifying to me why someone would hate this song. Okay, okay, it's got some hokey lyrics, and all, but, "It's the music." - jimi h.
From there they work their way into a breathless Crazy Fingers and its resultant tempestuous jam. This is definitely a capitol moment in the first part of the second set. Rollicking they glide right into Saint. It's a big top circus mode of Saint.
From Saint they go into a gigantic drums. There is the sound of pan pipes, or something, coming across the PA from stage, then the drums increase two fold in sound dynamic and onto a Matterhorn of space. Vince, champing away, finds the right niche and cruises into a glade; pulsating, going in and out faint pulse. Then as he fades, Mickey jumps on the Beam and the recording goes in and out from SUPER LOUD to diminutive. It sounds like the concert is doing the Wave. Oh, Jesus Christ...The sound IS doing the Wave. Oh, wow, I have never heard anything so fifth dimensional! My mind is totally totalled! ~ A wreck, on the rocks! Rebel Without a Cause!
The rest of the band magically re-appear and before long every member is gyrating his aks thru the endzone metaphorically revitalizing the Broncos who inadvertently overrun a Rockies batting practice session. Chaos ensues. Old burial grounds are given up. Bones rise up thru the pencil thin air.
One by one they gain, drop out, and regain their jamming ground. Jerry in French horn tone. The keyboardists are trashing around looking for their last half sense, Phil and Bobby composing their kindred necrophilia. The drummers drop back. The music becomes Alfred Hitchcock-ish. You are fearful that at any given moment someone is going to rush up to you, draped in a plastic shower curtain, and slash your necropolae back to pre-vegetarian length.
For the Big Jam, Billy and Mickey come back and begin a slow burn. No matter, for they are helped along by Phil's frenetic bass patterns. Then comes Jerry howling. Things slow down a bit for their effortless re-grouping and the first morsels of Miracle, which is very PHAT.
Then they settle like an eagle on it's nest into Wharf Rat. Some despise this song, but this is not one of those throw aways from the 19th Century. Oh no. The GD attack this song with grave elan' and it works in spades. Rapturous. Oh, gilded song, song that oxidize not. Songs that tarnish not.
But wait. Out of Wharf they do the Dark tease and drift back to Wharf. This is indicative to me, of some decided anger on the GD's parts. For some reason I sense this show, with a setlist composed of not oft loved Dead Head songs is sort of a counter-protest to the fans, to the promoters, to anyone and everyone who had ears to hear, and to know.
Wharf>Dark Tease>Wharf>Throwing>NFA: the definition of insult followed by excruciatingly predictable repetition of your deepest angst nipping at your heals like a thousand Pomeranians.
And pop! it's all over. no more anger. no dogs.
Phil stands up and nails Box and it acts as a deciding revamp back into the reality of known.
This show is pretty goshdarned hot, ALLA WAY Thru.
Thanks Chalkie, David Gans, and Archives.org.
Subject: what a long strange summer tour it has been!
Subject: Shattered, shoodoobie
I had fled Hollywood, bounced up to Seattle and was driving to DC and as I pulled into Denver on 25 I followed the VWs to Mile High. I had never seen the dead I had never been to Denver and I was lonely and dirty, living in a 86 ford taurus for weeks. I was 19 but with the beard and crazyeyes I was able to get a few bottles of fortified wine. With that in a coke cup I wandered the parking lot looking for tickets and in a minute I met a irish drunk deadhead hustler and I traded a little color tv I had for a handful of hits. He gave me a freebee and said this one was in his wallet and a little weak, since it was a first trip he wanted to ease me in. White blotter.
Sanatana was hazy and all the women near me were loosening up to the weird vibe. I entered the music and understood what the big deal was, I had broken through the curtain of Touch of Grey playerhating I had as a 80s metalhead and heard the actual music, IkoIko lifted me up and I got as close to the stage as I could. Peaking I needed to cling to the hallways and there was a man in full rainbow hippie outfit, the rainbow afro, everything and he was holding nachos like a prize and as he walked by he dropped them and he wanted to cry but to me it was the funniest thing I had ever seen and I shouldn't have laughed at the poor human being but I was following my brain up the fire escape. The moon pulled me into the parking lot, the second set was coming on and I knew I had to get out early, the acid still hitting me and I ended up on the hi-way lost after cops with flares guided me away from mile high, I started the worst terror trip of my life (lots of acid never again as bad as that) driving and parking near a drive in by some motels I was told there were no rooms, but I looked homeless and smelled worse and tripping I didnÃ¢ÂÂt know what to believe. So I watched Kevin Costner at the drive in on the other side of the fence and it was the worst movie I had ever seen and then I noticed I had been sitting on an ant hill. I walked to dunkin donuts and slowly came back to earth, maybe I picked up some of that badvibe, the fuckin blotter like thousands of freight trains through thousand of tiny mind tunnels that night. It busted my cherry, having those peaks and valleys alone lost and without a guide fortified me for all the other later excursions into the mind that the dead seemed to quantify, we have lost something now that that tribe has dispersed. Something will replace it but it is sometime a long wait when you are staring at Kevin Costner in tight covered with ant bites. (or was I imagining the ant bites? Did I just say that out loud?)
Subject: not the best of summer 91....
In contrast to several previous reviews: I was at this one (up close on the floor), and witnessed a very sober, middle aged, mellow crowd. I remember it was a hot, sunny day, and most everyone seemed very sober to me. The most weirdness I witnessed all day was Jerry busting into Iko in the middle of the 1st set, and the Dark Star tease during Wharf Rat, which wasn't even that unusual b/c Bruce dropped Dark Star riffs every other friggin song this whole tour.
This show was added to the tour after the preceeding dates were all scheduled.
Subject: Strange show
My recollection was that the sound system absolutely sucked! Didn't Phil kick a speaker at some point? Plus their voices were 'tired'..
Santana had held up the start of the show, arriving late due to his pot bust. So energy was weird, due to having been seated in the stadium a little too long before anything got started.
I had a great time. Thanks for the memories!
Subject: Mile High
Very HIGH! Absolutely NUTS!!! I saw lots of people guzzling whiskey in their seats and openly indulging in the finest illicit street drugs! Woman walking around naked :0) Dangerous fireworks going off in the parking lot. Good show, but totally different atmosphere.
Subject: HighTimes and Stolen Pets ...
Subject: Mile-High indeed
The Dead were acting strange too, come to think of it. "Eyes of the World" into "Picasso Moon"? Plus, the whole "Dark Star" taunt. I look back on this experience now, and still I can only say: "Huh?"
I have yet to make it through the entire tape of this show. Bruce and Vince are very ham-handed keyboardists. They are good, but they play very thick, dense parts. Having them both up there fighting for bandwidth was probably not a great idea. Still, this show was a pretty good way to spend a deathly hot summer afternoon at Mile High Stadium.
Subject: What a night!
To this day I have never seen more people on LSD in one concentrated place my entire life. The drug was everywhere and all the police were concerned about was the bootleg t-shirts. Some Heads had no regard for others as they were randomly dosing people with squirt guns (not cool). I saw someone being dragged out of the crowd by medics with perma-grin on their face as they were gone to the world. I was second row right in front of jerry and peaked the moment they hit the stage.
It took me a whole week to come down from this one.
Great Wharf Rat!
Subject: My first show.
Santana had gotten busted for a little of the green and played a lack luster set, then the Boys came out.
From note one I was hooked.
Aiko, was hot as was Picasso
I love the Dark Star tease/Jam in Wharf Rat...
I feel that this show is truely underrated.
If you were there you know.
Maybe not the best of '91 but a great show never-the-less.
I highly recomend this one.
ps-> this was the Only time the Dead played Mile High.
Subject: Mr. Spock Smiles
Subject: Sound 5 : Show 4
Subject: Mile High
Great quality to download.
Subject: ok, but . . .
imho, the santana opener seemed a little cheesey and the crowd responded as if the opener was the house band at a cocktail party. maybe it's just me, but sandstone and rfk just blow this mile high away. check out the wharf star rat, it makes for good filler.
Subject: It WAS a good day at Mile High
Unfortunately the pics I got of the Dead that night were a little too dark and bleary. But the music was fine fine fine!
Subject: fun show